Julie's shoeboy

Julie and I worked in the local supermarket. We'd been reasonably friendly for a number of years, though were never going to be bosom pals. Our relationship had become quite special though. I was now like a shoeshine boy to her and on several occasions had served as her full-time slave. It was a very satisfactory arrangement. And how that had begun?

It had started one Saturday evening in the back warehouse of the building. We were working the late shift and fooling around, clearing stuff up. I was brushing up some fruit on the floor that had got crushed by the heavy pallets that had been pulled through the warehouse earlier that day. I bent down to pick up and apple that was clinging to the dirty ground, when all of a sudden, Julie stepped up in front of me and trod straight on the apple, crushing it further into the floor.

She was wearing thin, light tan tights underneath her green uniform, and on her feet had black leather lace-up Doc Marten shoes. Not the sexiest shoes in the world, but they way she flounced around in them, and the way they gleamed out from below her figure-hugging uniform, certainly made me stiff.

"Oops," she said, giggling as I looked down at the crushed apple on the floor. "How clumsy." She then sat down on the edge of a pallet stacked a couple of feet high with tins and held the sole up, as I continued kneeling on the floor. The soles were dirty from the dust and spillages around the store that she'd walked around in, as well as slight traces of dried mud that she's picked up on her walk to work that afternoon.

"Want a bite?," she asked, now with a deadly serious face. I was dumbstruck. There was nothing I'd rather do than eat the traces of apple from the sole of Julie's shoe, but how did she know that? I laughed clumsily, "Erm, no thanks!" I managed to force out, but remained transfixed on her shoe sole.

She wiggled her shoe up and down, snapped her fingers down and ordered, this time deadly seriously, "Lick it off now if you know what's good for you...I'll get increasingly louder until you do it..." Luckily there were no other members of staff around. I couldnt really think of what to do - the thought of anyone hearing or seeing it would just be too hard to explain. So I did as she asked.

I shiffled on my knees towards where she sat and cradled her shoe in my hands. Looking up at her cold eyes before I started, she whispered down to me "there's a good boy." I attacked the shoesole with my tongue, lifting the small pieces of rotting apple into my mouth and swallowing. Once all the apple was gone, she rotated her shoe and looked down to see how I'd done. "Well done. Now lick the rest of the sole clean." This felt really humiliating. Apple was one thing, but mud and dirt another. But still, I was incredibly turned on and her smile alone as she looked down at me made what I was about to do worthwhile. I lathed my tongue across the entire surface of her shoes, picking up general dirt, dried mud, and the sticky remains of spillages she must have walked in during her shift. I finished the job by running the tip of my tongue along every single groove in the tread, ensuring not a single piece of debris remained. I felt a little sick but I was really enjoying myself. It felt so good to be in service to such a fantastic woman.

As I gently let her leg down, satisfied with my job, but still confused as to how this situation had come about, she leant back and raised her other leg. "Now the other one, please...," she instructed. her voice was soft now, and sweet. It was funny, it was almost as if by simpy adding 'please' to her command, it made it Ok to ask me to lick God-knows-what from the sole of her shoe. But lick I did. I traced my tongue across every milimetre of that shoe sole, occaisonally picking up the sweaty scent of her feet as she flexed them inside the shoe. I was in heaven, bizarre as it may sound, but on my knees in front of a gorgeous contemporary, cleaning her shoes with my tongue was where I'd always wanted to be. I licked away all the dirt until the second shoesole looked brand new.

Julie checked the sole, leant down and patted me on the head. "Thanks for that," she cooed. "Next time, no hestiation..." And she walked off whistling...